


Trop d'amour

by Grimsy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:20:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimsy/pseuds/Grimsy
Summary: The Midnight Crew is preparing for what could be a much needed success. But Diamonds Droog is uncertain that Spades Slick will be able to deliver them to it, all due to a recent predicament that has interfered with his boss's peace of mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The alternative titles for this were: 
> 
> 1) 5 Easy Ways You Can Turn Romantic Distractions Into Success  
> 2) Learn Exactly How We Made Romantic Distractions Last Month  
> 3) Got Stuck? Try These Tips To Streamline Your Romantic Distractions
> 
> (Thank you title-generator.com for no help whatsoever).
> 
>  
> 
> I did something I said I wouldn't do (again) and that's release a chapter while the rest of the story is unfinished. So all I can say is this and hope you take my word for it: This story is not going on hiatus. I'm seeing this through to the bitter end. It will take awhile, but I'll get there and spend as much time as possible to working towards it. Should you choose to join me on this journey, then I hope you enjoy!

  
From his own experience, Diamonds Droog could say that plans only followed through as smoothly as the people who conceived them. A role Droog knew he filled perfectly, but not one he would find himself in anytime soon. Not when he was so painfully being denied even part of that role.

“Droog, the only thing you’re helping me conceive right now is a goddamn headache.” Spades Slick huffed, “When you’re done talking to yourself, you got stuff to do.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Droog peered up at the man over the top of his newspaper. Slick was still watching him, irritation more than present on his face. It wasn’t that Droog was unaware of himself talking, he just decided to mull his thoughts aloud. In front of Slick. There were only so many ways into the man’s head after all.

Droog’s _dear_ boss did not take kindly to suggestion at the best of times, that of the verbal variety anyhow. Well, unless he was asking for it. But a man such as Spades Slick does not make a habit of asking - too accustomed to taking and all that.

To reach Slick, you have to get past all the jagged and gravelled personality traits that prevent him from being a rational being. Which brings us back to where Droog started. _Not_ being a smooth character, Slick’s plans rarely followed through with grace. That didn't necessarily mean they were unsuccessful. They just required significantly more on-the-spot thinking when carrying them out. In the past, it had lead to a few situations Droog would have preferred to have avoided. Though he would always often offer his assistance on plans, there was only so much he would be permitted to say. Even less at times like, well, _this_...

Droog was sat at a table, well not just any table. The crew’s habitual gathering point, the grey and bland one in the center of their base. While it typically stayed that way, today it was decorated with a mess of heist plans. As in various plans for one specific heist. A big one too. One that could keep their pockets filled for quite a while. Such a shame that all Droog’s hopes and expectations for it were currently at zero, and across from the table was the reason why.

There Slick was, standing up and hunched over. Standing, because the man was far too agitated to take a seat. Now and then Droog would hear an impatient rhythm from his boss’s foot as it tapped away against the floor. Of course, an agitated Spades Slick was not uncommon. It was simply… How could he put this delicately? Today’s, yesterday’s, and the past few days’ irritation stemmed from a more irrational source than what was usual for his boss.

Droog didn’t want to give the _what_ a moment’s thought. He just wanted Slick to fix himself up so that he could trust the man to do this right. He needed to secure this heist for them, to get them paid for the first time in too long. Not shot because Slick had been too distracted at the planning stage.

“You’ve been at that for a while. Maybe you want to take a break, go lie down for a bit.” Droog carefully proposed to the other man.

Slick met said proposal with a frown and spoke through gritted teeth, “And _why_ would I need to?”

So hostile. Not that Droog would have Slick any other way. But who knew such aggression could stem from the recommendation of a nap.

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, but obviously he did know. Slick knew, he knew, Slick knew he knew, he knew Slick knew he knew, et cetera. A clusterfuck of knowing. Of knowing that perhaps Slick wasn’t in the most stylish, polished, and proudly-hanging-from-the-wall frame of mind.

Droog decided to go further, “You seem tense.”

“Do I?” Slick lay both his hands flat on the table. “And what makes you think that?”

Droog was surprised that Slick would bait him like that. To tempt him to come out and say it. It’s not like Slick was going to, he was much too embarrassed. He would sooner be dead than admit it. But if someone here had to be honest about it, Droog supposed he was the best man for that. Just this once.

He took a deep breath, “You seem to still be in the process of…”

_Griping over your recent less-than-successful romantic encounter._

_Mourning the daily opportunity for a quick fuck._

_Fuming about some broad you let slip through your fingers._

“... Missing your lady friend.” Droog muttered the words and reluctantly lowered his gaze back down to his paper, hiding his eyes from Slick.

“You better go back to thinking in your head, _Diamonds_. Or you might lose it.” The shorter man snapped. Beneath the anger, Droog could tell from Slick’s voice that the man was flustered by his frankness. So he shut up, and Slick returned to addressing the schematics on the table.

 

Minutes ticked by and Droog found himself feeling unusually restless. It was difficult to keep up with the charade of actually being interested in the print he was pretending to read. Especially with his head constantly wanting to tilt up far enough to see Slick over his paper. But he couldn’t risk Slick’s eyes meeting his right now. The last thing he needed was for his boss to recognise in his eyes an unusual fascination at Slick’s vulnerability.

It used to trouble Droog that he liked watching Slick flustered. He’d obviously accepted it long ago, after spending years brushing it off with excuses like curiosity. Something about that deer-in-the-headlights stare with “you better hope you have car insurance” hostility. Droog found it enthralling. Sure, he liked the man on his game. But a little variety in solitude never hurt, and surely all rare sights needed to be savoured.

Even when the cause of these rare sights were things Droog generally disapproved of. Such as…

Even the mere thought pulled an exasperated sigh out of him.

_… Romantic distractions._

Spades Slick, _the_ Spades Slick had been dumped. Rather quickly as well, and for once it wasn’t the violent mobster aspect that lead to this. Usually it was Slick who moved on first, detaching himself from whatever sticky mess of quadrants he’d created. But this time, the woman had been the one to call it off.

Droog’s fingers curled tight against the pages of his paper as he remembered her.

He’d seen them together a few times, rarely sober, limbs always tangled even outside of his room. Droog would roll his eyes and feel that uncanny twinge of… To put it simply, it was a distasteful sight. So much so, that he’d often thought about forcing the woman’s address out of Slick and taking her out of the picture himself. It would have been entirely justified considering the grief she’d be causing him later. The irony was that Droog had only ever tried to quell those thoughts on behalf of Slick’s feelings. But it was over now, and things could go back to how they were.

Droog quickly quieted his thoughts at what he thought was Slick speaking to him, or grumbling. But when he looked up, the other man still had his head down. The only thing Slick seemed to be trying to communicate with were the scattered papers on the table.

He needed Droog’s help. He looked stuck, maybe going a little mad, probably hoping the plans would start grumbling answers back. Besides, it was getting god awfully boring. Watching and waiting just wasn’t his game tonight.

“We making progress?” He asked the heist whisperer.

Slick’s eyes left the table to glower at Droog, “We? _I_ am making progress. _You're_ just sitting around being useless.”

“You told me to.” Much earlier, Droog had made the mistake of pointing out that his boss’s plan to scale a spiked fence was not only ridiculous, but unnecessary. Perhaps it was the tone he had said the words in. Either way, it was this that lead to Droog being banished from Slick’s side, landing him at the opposite end of the table.

“I told you to keep out of my way! You can still be doin’ something. Pretty sure I told you to shut your trap too!” Slick barked.

It had started to become apparent that Droog’s previous mention of the woman, to be known as “Slick’s botched date”, had aggravated the man more than intended. As if you could call it a date anyway. Slick just happened to “stumble into” the stranger for a few nights the week before. Then deciding it was time for a repeat, he showed up at the dame’s house a few days ago. Where she lived with her husband, information she chose not to share with Slick. Perhaps botched wasn’t a strong enough word. _Butchered_ might be more suitable. Though not butchered enough in Droog’s own humble opinion.

There was only so much he managed to accomplish on such short notice of their separation.

Slick slammed a fist down on the table, “Okay. Where’s my pen?”

“Didn’t you just have it?” Droog remembered Slick scrawling away with it easily - as it was only a minute ago. He also remembered Slick putting it down, and then accidentally moving a sheet over it. In fact, Droog could see the pen now, just barely poking out from under.

Slick ducked under the table, checking if it had rolled off onto the floor. Droog watched him nearly hit his head as he came back up, he gave his second in command a suspicious look. “Did you take it.”

“Are you accusing me, all the way over here, of theft?” Droog tutted, “You know I’m better than that, boss.” Droog wasn’t a child, if he wanted Slick’s attention he had far better ways of getting it.

“Shit joke. I’m going to get another, don’t even think of touching anything.” Slick turned and swiftly exited the room into the hallway.

Seconds later Droog heard the booming volume of Slick’s voice as he told someone to move aside. Boxcars walked into the room shortly after.

 

“You piss him off or something?” Boxcars’ head was turned facing the hallway, checking in case Slick decided to stomp back in behind him.

“Have I ever?” Droog relaxed a little at Boxcars’ presence. He seemed to be in a good mood, especially if he was letting Slick snap at him over taking up all the space in their hallway.

The larger man shrugged, “He was murmuring up a storm about trading you in for a house cat yesterday. All the sass with none of the backtalk.”

“Is that so.” Droog thought dogs were Slick’s thing, he knows they are. But an interest in cats would be a significant improvement.

“What’s all this crap?” Boxcars walked up to the table and pulled out a chair.

Droog lazily waved a hand over the table, “Plans for future endeavours.”

Boxcars immediately released his grip on the chair. A slow screech echoed in the room as he slid it back under the table. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

He rubbed his neck, glancing back at the doorway again. “Well, not that there’s anythin’ wrong but… You’ve got this covered, yeah?”

Droog raised an eyebrow at the man. Then when it clicked, he just frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Boxcars pointed a finger at him, “I just… Don’t really wanna hang around while…” He leaned into the table and cupped a hand around his mouth to hush his voice, “While the boss is bein’ a bit of a drama queen.”

“A drama-”

Boxcars’ frantic hushes might have made Droog laugh at any other time. But the death penalty that would result from Slick hearing either of the two men talking like that or laughing about it was very much unwanted.

Droog spoke in a low voice, “You need to forget about that, Hearts.”

“I will when the boss decides to. And he’s been sulking over it non-stop, Droog.” Boxcars whispered.

“Lets just say it’s not going to be a problem anymore.” He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes fell to the print, ending the conversation. Or trying to, because now it was Boxcars’ turn to give Droog a suspicious stare.

“Did you do something?” The man’s voice was almost hesitant, but his eyes gave away the extent of his unease.

Droog tried to reassure the other man by looking offended. Offended that Boxcars would think even for a minute that he would waste his time like that. Last but not least, offended that Boxcars would assume something devious had occurred. Diamonds Droog doing something sinister? _Never_.

So he set the man straight. “Absolutely not. It’s not my role to interfere with his love life.”

It was actually. In fact Droog had read it in the small print of his metaphorical employment contract, under the clause “Stupid Nonsense”.

As he had said, the woman was not going to be a problem anymore. People don’t tend to be after you’ve opened them up from groin to sternum. Of course, many people (Hearts included) would feel Droog’s choice of reaction was very troublesome.

But actually it’s very easy, you only need a knife to accomplish it. No trouble at all.

He trusted Slick not to try seek her out again, since their last rendezvous had ended on such a sour note. Otherwise if need be, Droog _could_ direct him to Midnight City Cemetery’s recent resident, Bereft Burgher. Such a poorly understaffed place. He remembered reading about several strikes just this year alone. With such a small presence of staff onsite, it was easy to slip her body into the already dug grave. He even attended Mr. Burgher’s burial ceremony the next morning.

Droog held back a scoff while thinking about her. Nothing was so irksome as the sight of Spades Slick getting riled up over a _nobody._ Especially after he had gone through all the trouble of putting her seven feet underground.

“Something wrong?” Hearts blinked at him, “Your face just went completely sour.”

“Couldn’t you tell? I was horrified that you’d think I would waste my time picking up after Slick’s quadrants.”

Boxcars whistled, “A clean up duty I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I’m gonna clear out before he gets back. Maybe grab a bite.”

He walked past Droog and headed over to the ladder leading up to a manhole. Looks like it was just going to be him and Slick again. Alone. Unless Clubs decided to show his face, anyway.

“Oh, and tell Deuce he can keep it.” Boxcars said behind him.

Droog turned his head to look at the man. He was almost halfway up the ladder. Hell of a time to remember anything important. “Keep what?”

Boxcars stopped climbing and turned to him with a grin. Droog regretted opening his mouth immediately.

“There’s a great novel I picked up at the store. You know, the secondhand one on Percher’s Street? I mean, I know we’ve all got a lotta cash now and then, but the simple things! Anyway, it’s about a Prospitian who gets involved with a-”

Droog shook his head and turned away from the large man. “No. Don’t care. Get out.” He listened to Boxcars’ laughter as he ascended and closed the manhole behind him. Then finally, Droog was greeted by complete silence.

 

Traditionally, silence and peace are what Deuce might call _the best of friends_. But now with no one to talk to, no one to even watch, and a paper he’d read through too many times, his mind kept going back to her. This time, part of her name arrived with the thoughts too.

 _Chastity_.

Ironic. Terminally ironic. In honesty, Droog doubted it was her real name, but even so. Oh, the pain Chastity had caused. In Slick’s heart, in Droog’s back. He wouldn’t be able to touch a shovel again for a long time.

Droog knew from the start that he couldn’t stand back forever and let this distraction continue to take its toll. Especially not now. Dear god, the woman was dead after all. Slick of course did not know that; trivial information really. Not worth troubling him about. But his above-average temper was making him impossible to work with. He remembered his leader’s scrunched up expression when he returned home the night it ended. Enraged, disillusioned, and almost defeated. (He’d tried to call her but she just screamed down the line. Then she stopped answering entirely. After that, one could omit the “almost”). It was pitiful. He had seen it every day in his boss’s face since.

It was Droog’s professional opinion that Slick was unfit for work. He wasn’t prepared to clean up after the trail of disasters Slick’s emotions would lead him on. It was his duty, to himself and as second in command, to stop this train before it derailed. How much easier things would be if he were the one driving...

Slick returns, pen in accomplished hand. He went back to his work without a word.

Little else was regarded, and little else needed to be. Droog’s mind was suddenly busy turning cogs elsewhere.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you've read you'll be pleased to know that I have already started Chapter 2. I want to say expect it soon, but we'll see how it goes. I'd also like to give a huge thanks to my friend Joe for her work in helping me finalise this chapter!


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